Harry/Taylor
It's just before seven o'clock. In a few minutes we are invited to our neighbours. Taylor plucks her hair impatiently.
"Leave it alone. You look beautiful, honey."
I have to smile at her sight. Her red dress nestles tightly against her body and shows off her figure. For my taste she is a bit overdressed. She's nervous:
"Don't you wear a tie with the black shirt?" she asks and digs in the closet.
"Tie? What for? Taylor, it's a date and not an official event."
I chose dark jeans and a tight black shirt. The button placket is half open. Perfect.
"Let's finally go, Harry. I don't like to be late."
Zayn
Gigi runs through our house for the better part of an hour. It's almost unbearable. She wipes some dust there, polishes a faucet there. I simply don't understand it. I mean, our neighbours are coming. They are neither the Queen nor any superstars. So why all the effort?
"Now stop cleaning! That makes me totally nervous!" Gigi looks at me angrily.
"The first impressions count, Zayn," she replies and now focuses herself to the table decoration for the hundredth time.
"Do we have enough wine? Are the glasses clean too", she shouts to me.
I shrug my shoulders and disappear into the studio.
"Zaynie...please change your clothes. I've already put them on your bed," I hear.
"Why I have to change my clothes? I'm dressed after all", I complain.
What's the big deal?It's just a date with the Styles. I am at home and wear comfortable clothes. That's it!
"Come on. The old shirt and the pants. You have paint all over you ...you're not serious, are you?"
She presses a delicate kiss on my temple and I give in reluctantly.
"But I'm not wearing a suit!
When I refreshed myself and then changed my clothes, I hear the doorbell ringing. They are coming, I sigh. Well then, Malik, hope you have a shitty night! I am winking at myself in the mirror.
"Good evening, Harry and Taylor. Come in, please," I hear my wife say in a friendly manner.
"I'm glad you came."
From the upper floor I can see the couple coming into our living room. She is wearing a tight red dress. He wears jeans and a shirt. Thank God, he isn't wearing a suit either. His fluffy curls gently falling over his shoulders . The Styles stand uncomfortable before they sit down at the large table. Gigi clears her throat.
"Where is Zayn? I'll be right back," she says visibly annoyed.
"He's always late." Then she sprints up the stairs.
"Damn it, Zayn, where are you? It's totally rude of you to keep us waiting."
Annoyed she stands in front of me.
"Be patient, I'm coming." We both go downstairs arm in arm.
"So, there he is, the artist. Late, as always. I'm sorry," Gigi says to both.
"Good evening," I croak and take a seat opposite.
An embarrassing silence fell. The blonde politely interrupts it.
"Your home is very pleasant. We're still unpacking and there's no end in sight," she says in a high-pitched voice.
What an interesting information, it comes to mind. I hope she doesn't talk nonsense like that all night.
"I know what you mean. If you need help, just let us know. We will be pleased to help you," Gigi replies.
What? I can't believe this lady. Why should I help them?
"I think the Styles are doing pretty well without us, don't they Berry?" I just couldn't help myself.
Interrupted from his thoughts, the curly head looking around.
"Uhm, my name is Harry."
A malicious smile is on my lips. The evening will be very amusing, I think. Gigi serves the red wine and puts a plate of food on the table.
"Please, help yourself," she encourages the guests.
Harry hesitantly takes a piece of meat from the plate and turns it back and forth between his fingers.
"That's meat, Berry. It's edible."
I irritate him and my wife's giving me the evil eye.
"Uhm, of course, Wayne," he replies dryly.
Wayne? Did he just call me Wayne? I fix my eyes on him and see a mischievous sparkle. That son of a bitch. He bites the food with relish and licks his pink lips with his tongue. Harry is aware of this. He moans and runs his tongue over his lips again. I look away and take a sip of red wine.
"Tell us something about your life" Gigi says.
Taylor is relieved and starts reporting. She works as a designer for a big fashion label, she is often on the road...general bla bla bla...What a boring little person. Her flow of words is unstoppable. Our women get along - much to my displeasure. Taylors voice annoys me. It is squeaky. So I'm attending to her husband and hope that he is not such a bore.
"Berry, what do you do for a living ?" I start the conversation.
"Are you working in the fashion industry too?"
Harry raises his head, stares at me and grins cheekily.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he asks.
"What do you mean, Berry?"
I'm pretending to be naive. I was starting to enjoy the evening.
"Listen, Wayne," he whispers and his voice gives me goose bumps.
It is velvety and deep.
"My name isn't Wayne," I hiss back.
Our eyes meet.
"And my name isn't Berry, Darling," he whispers across the table.
What did he just call me? Darling? I gasp for air.
When he bent over to me, I had the perfect view of his exposed chest. The designers could have saved themselves the button placket with him. He didn't buttoned up. His skin is slightly tanned and covered with tattoos. Wow. I am impressed for a brief moment. I didn't expect that. That was, probably his intention. He seemed like a bore for me. He seems to be able to read my thoughts. He leans back and stretches himself a little, so that his shirt covered almost nothing. My eyes fall out of my head at the sight. I clear my throat in embarrassment. Harry obviously enjoys this game and still grins.
"I am a writer," he suddenly says to end the embarrassing situation.
"You are an author? So you write books? Real books?"
My interest is aroused. Harry nods.
"What do you mean, Zayn?" he wants to know.
"Well, a book is not necessarily a good book or a great gift for the humanity. What kind of books do you write?"
When I still want to pour us wine, he suddenly puts his hand over the glass. Our hands touch for a second, sending sparks in my whole body. I'm wincing. He's looking at me seductively. Yes, seductive...
"Do you have a beer? I'm not a big wine drinker," he says.
"Sure. I'll get us one."
On the way to the fridge I feel his gaze. He is watching me, I think. Where are our women actually? I hear them giggling from upstairs.
"There you go".
The cool beer sparkles on the tongue. I need a smoke.
"Are you coming outside? I need a cigarette," I inform him.
"Sure, as long as I don't have to smoke."
Oh, such a do-gooder. Great, that was all I needed.
Harry
I take a deep breath of the mild evening air. It is still pleasantly warm out here. Zayn leans relaxed against the wall of the house and smokes. This guy fascinates me. Admittedly, he is a sarcastic asshole, a sociopath.....but he is fucking gorgeous. His deep groans in the afternoon comes to mind. When I thought of it, I imagined him having sex with Gigi in bed. His naked body is soaked in sweat. Mercilessly he pushes into her, rough and hard.
Harry, I think, focus on the really important things.
Zayn wears completely black. The pants are tight and show his long legs and a small rounded bottom. He stands there like a model. I'd like to die for his flawless face and the sharp jawline. The lips are full and moist.
I really have to pull myself together.
I try to suppress these frivolous thoughts.
"I write novels, Zayn,"
"So what kind of novels? Hopefully not romance novels", he laughs.
"Well, even if I do..what is wrong with that?", I want to know from him.
With a gesture, he points to one of the chairs. We sit down.
"Come on. Because only housewifes read boring romance novels. A little sex in the morning, a little sex in the evening, tears of regret, longing, heartache and a happy ending," he explains.
"True life is left behind. How boring. Perhaps the world's second worst crime is boredom; the first is being a bore. Are you a boring man, Harry?"
I think about his statement:
"And you're more into adventure, I guess", I want to know.
"I like it wild, adventurous and rough. Normality is deadly," he adds.
God help me. The man is driving me crazy and that only after a few hours. Wild, rough, adventurous, I associate with completely other things. No man has ever stimulated my imagination the way he does.
"No, no romance novels. I write thrillers."
Zayn raises the well curved eyebrows. His caramel - colored eyes are watching me.
"Thrillers? So you write about murder, manslaughter and the similar? Respect. So your soul is dark as night, Harry?"
His tongue is between his teeth.
"Maybe," I answer seductively.
We look each other in the eye for a few seconds. Green meets caramel.
"I like people who take risks, Harry," he returns hoarse.
"Really?", I breathe.
My stomach suddenly feels weak. What kind of game is he playing?
In the next moment our wives come out o the house.
We chat about irrelevant things for the rest of the evening until it's almost midnight.
"Now it's time to go, Harry," says Taylor.
"It's getting late and I'm tired."
We stand up and walk towards the door. When I say goodbye, Gigi hugs me and whispers in my ear:
"I think he likes you. It's extremely rare that Zayn was so communicative and didn't disappear into the studio after five minutes."
Gratefully I nod to her. Gigi and Taylor make an appointment. They want to go shopping together in the next few days. Then Zayn stands in front of me.
"It was a really stimulating evening, Harry."
"Yes, it was," I reply.
"We should continue our conversation sometime and discuss your dark soul in more detail. That might well inspire my work." I swallow.
By chance our fingers touch. They electrify me. No, that's just wrong. I am married to a wonderful woman. My neighbour confuses me.
Hurriedly I look for the way outside.